


'cause maybe i'm falling in love with you

by katlightage



Category: Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Light Angst, M/M, POV Bram Greenfeld, after martin's post, insecure!bram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katlightage/pseuds/katlightage
Summary: Simon’s texting was so wonderful and perfectly him, Bram couldn’t even handle it. He was having a hard time remembering why he didn’t agree to this earlier.---What would've happened if Simon had actually tried The Shirt on in the first two weeks of having it
Relationships: Bram Greenfeld/Simon Spier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 183





	'cause maybe i'm falling in love with you

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Falling in Love" by Kurt Hugo Schneider
> 
> This is 100% inspired by [ShinMeiko](/users/%5BShinMeiko%5D/) 's work "What if..." which will be linked at the end :)

Bram had been uneasy for hours. He’d left Simon the shirt that morning, and all he’d been able to think about since was when he’d get a message. Bram liked the idea that he’d know when Simon tried the shirt on based on when he texted. He’d planned it that way, of course. The second note was infinitely more important than the first, and he knew he wanted Simon to read it when he was alone, hence why it was inside the shirt. He would only be able to find it when he tried the shirt on, and Bram didn’t think he was the type to randomly strip in the middle of the hallway.

Although Bram had told himself he’d finish his homework before checking his phone, that plan had failed instantly. Now, he sat staring at his English essay, which had a total of two words on the top of the page (Bram Greenfeld), and jumping every time his phone buzzed, even when he knew Simon would still be in rehearsal.

Finally, at 7, Bram saw a text that didn’t immediately disappoint him.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: hey, it’s me  
(MAYBE:) SIMON: simon.. if that wasn’t clear  
(MAYBE:) SIMON: i’m not going to lie, i’m really nervous right now

Bram’s heart started racing. _Simon_ was nervous? Bram’s hands shook as he typed back his response, and he created a new contact for Simon, using a lot of restraint to keep from adding a heart next to his name. Hopefully soon he’d be able to add it.

BRAM: Simon, hi. I’m glad you texted me. Why are you nervous, though?

SIMON: because you wrote me a freaking love letter  
SIMON: shit  
SIMON: maybe i shouldn’t call it a love letter  
SIMON: i’m sorry

Simon’s texting was so wonderful and perfectly him, Bram couldn’t even handle it. He was having a hard time remembering why he didn’t agree to this earlier.

BRAM: You have nothing to be sorry about. You can call it whatever you’d like. 

SIMON: why did you change your mind?  
SIMON: about giving me your number, i mean 

BRAM: Because of you. You make me brave, Simon. 

SIMON: god, blue. you’re just  
SIMON: perfect  
SIMON: you know that?

Bram froze. Hearing Simon call him perfect should’ve made him happy, right? And it did, but he also felt like he didn’t deserve that praise. Besides, Bram clearly wasn’t the one Simon wanted Blue to be.

SIMON: are you still there?

BRAM: Yes, sorry.

SIMON: is everything okay?  
SIMON: did i say something wrong  
SIMON: fuck  
SIMON: i’m sorry

BRAM: Simon, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I’m just getting into my head. Trust me, it’s not you at all. 

SIMON: you know you can tell me about it  
SIMON: whatever it is

BRAM: I know I can. I just don’t want you to think any less of me. 

SIMON: there’s literally nothing you could do to make me think any less of you

BRAM: I’m holding you to that.  
BRAM: Okay. When you said I was perfect, obviously that made me so incredibly happy, but it also felt a little wrong—like it’s not meant for me. I know you’ve apologized for guessing wrong and I hate that it makes me feel so insecure, but it does. I still can’t help thinking that, if that’s the kind of guy you’re looking for, you’ll be disappointed when you find out who I am. 

SIMON: no no no  
SIMON: blue, i swear, you could never disappoint me  
SIMON: please please believe me  
SIMON: as soon as i found out you weren’t cal he was gone from my mind  
SIMON: i liked him because i thought he was blue, not the other way around 

BRAM: I do believe you, I promise. 

SIMON: i didn’t disappoint you.. right?  
SIMON: i mean i obviously read your note but  
SIMON: was that all true?

BRAM: Simon, I can't even begin to explain the extreme lack of disappointment I felt when I found out it was you. 

SIMON: oh  
SIMON: why though?  
SIMON: i’m just simon

Bram almost didn’t know what to say. Did Simon not realize the effect he had on Bram? On everyone for that matter. Obviously Bram’s feelings for Simon were different than most people’s—although he didn’t understand how the entire world wasn’t in love with him—but Simon still had this ability to make every single person feel welcome and important and loved. How could Simon think so little of himself to say he was “just” anything.

BRAM: Just Simon? Are you sure you read my note? I’ll give you a refresher, just in case. You always have this half-smile on your face, even when you’re taking a test, and it’s absolutely adorable. But then you smile for real, and it lights up the room, that’s how incredible it is. (It’s making me write in sentence fragments just thinking about it.) Your hair is so perfectly messy and tempting. All day, I think about running my hands through it. And don’t even get me started on your eyes. They’re this perfect color of gray, and, sometimes, they look almost silver. And when you look at people, you always hold eye contact for a second longer than you need to, and it makes it seem like every person is the most important person to you. So no, you’re not _just Simon._

SIMON: holy shit, blue  
SIMON: i need to meet you  
SIMON: i need to hold you and kiss you and try to make you feel even a fraction of how special you just made me feel  
SIMON: when can i meet you

BRAM: Soon. Trust me.  
BRAM: Now that I know you think about kissing me, I don’t have to feel as guilty about thinking about you in, well, less innocent ways.

Bram had half a mind to throw his phone across the room. Why did he say that? And now Simon wasn’t responding, and he’d clearly seen the message. Yeah, Simon said he wanted to kiss Bram—well, Blue—but that didn’t mean he was ready for anything more than that.

BRAM: I’m sorry. Did that make you uncomfortable?

SIMON: no  
SIMON: god no  
SIMON: that was quite possibly the best thing i’ve ever read  
SIMON: i just needed a minute to  
SIMON: um  
SIMON: calm down

Bram’s heart quickened. He stared at the last two words until he was sure they were imprinted in his mind. He knew Simon made him feel that way, but he never imagined his words would give Simon that kind of reaction. Feeling more nervous than he has in a long time, he sends a string of replies.

BRAM: Oh. Okay.  
BRAM: Should I…  
BRAM: Keep going? 

SIMON: YES  
SIMON: sorry if that seemed too eager  
SIMON: i know this is new for us, but i want it if you do

BRAM: I do want that.

SIMON: what else do you want..?

So this was really happening.

BRAM: I want to run my fingers through your hair.  
BRAM: I want you to look at me, and not look away because, like I said earlier, your eyes are quite possibly the best color to exist.  
BRAM: I want to hear you say my name.  
BRAM: I want to kiss that freckle on your jaw like I’ve been thinking about for years. 

SIMON: blue, stop  
SIMON: please

Bram’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t believe he messed this up. He’d planned to be more careful, but he’d gotten so caught up in _Simon_ and everything he’d thought about doing to him for years. 

BRAM: Did I go too far? I’m sorry. 

SIMON: no, not at all  
SIMON: it’s just  
SIMON: it’s getting hard not to picture someone doing.. all of that, and i feel guilty 

Bram felt like he’d been punched. It made sense, though. Bram was able to imagine Simon under his hands, but Simon didn’t have that luxury. And since Simon didn’t know who Blue was, Bram had no doubt in his mind who Simon was picturing.

BRAM: Oh. Right.  
BRAM: Is it Cal?

SIMON: no  
SIMON: i told you, he’s completely gone from my mind

BRAM: Then who?

SIMON: you actually want to know that?

BRAM: Strangely, yes. I don’t know why, but, earlier, hearing you say that it was Cal… it helped me. All I know for sure is that if I don’t know who you’re picturing, I’m probably going to kill myself trying to figure it out.  
BRAM: That’s what happened with Cal, at least. 

SIMON: okay, well first of all  
SIMON: i would’ve told you it was cal a lot sooner if i’d known it was eating you up that much. i’m sorry  
SIMON: anyways  
SIMON: please don’t freak out, okay?  
SIMON: i was picturing bram

What? Bram’s heart almost stopped. 

BRAM: Greenfeld?

SIMON: yeah  
SIMON: he sits at my lunch table  
SIMON: and he’s objectively really cute, so it’s easy to picture him  
SIMON: but i promise that’s not what i’m expecting  
SIMON: i’d be happy even if you were a troll

Bram still couldn’t believe it. Was this a joke? But no, Simon would never joke about this, which meant it had to be true. Simon, the guy Bram had been crushing on for years, noticed him before even knowing he was Blue. Bram felt like he was floating.

BRAM: You think Bram Greenfeld is cute?

SIMON: well, yeah  
SIMON: you’re not mad, right?

If only Simon could understand that Bram felt the exact opposite of mad. He was fucking ecstatic. Sort of in shock, as well, but mostly, he just felt happy. And he couldn’t just sit still knowing that Simon was across town thinking of him—the Blue _and_ Bram versions of him. He frantically typed a quick reply, slipped his shoes on, and bolted down the stairs, not even bothering to tell his mom where he was going.

BRAM: No. I guess I’m just confused about why you’d picture him if you don’t know him.  
BRAM: That sounded accusatory, but it’s not. I swear. 

SIMON: i don’t really  
SIMON: know him, i mean  
SIMON: it’s just  
SIMON: please don’t think anything of this. i promise it doesn’t mean anything compared to you  
SIMON: i sort of had a little bit of a crush on him, and it didn’t help that he reminded me of you  
SIMON: he’s quiet and thoughtful and smart, and i have this theory that he’s really funny in his head  
SIMON: which all screams blue  
SIMON: i mean, he’s straight, and he’s not you, so none of that matters  
SIMON: but it was easy to picture you as him. or him as you. i don’t really know. 

Bram’s hands drummed against the steering wheel as message after message came through, buzzing in his cup holder. He pulled into the driveway and stopped the car, reading each and every one, his smile growing wider the farther he went.

SIMON: please say something

BRAM: Can you come outside?

SIMON: like  
SIMON: now?

BRAM: Like now. 

Bram looked up as Simon’s front door opened a moment later, and, with a deep breath, pushed open the car door. The night air was cool, but when he saw Simon standing just feet away, his entire body warmed.

“Bram?” Simon asked, stepping into the driveway. “I don’t. . .”

Bram just waited, staring right at him and, for once, not looking away. He could tell the exact moment Simon understood, because his eyes lit up, his mouth dropped open slightly, and his face flushed.

“Bram?” he asked again, his voice softer, taking another step closer until there was only a foot of space between them. 

Bram chewed on his lip nervously and nodded. He’d been going for a whole Sexy and Confident vibe on the drive over here, but now that Simon was in front of him and so, so close, all he could manage was Nervous and Tongue-Tied. Clearly Simon didn’t have an issue with that, though.

“No freaking way,” Simon laughed, his smile radiant.

Bram just smiled, and there was a moment where neither said anything. It wasn’t awkward, though. Bram couldn’t be sure, but he thought Simon was trying to match the Blue he knew from the emails with the person standing in front of him. Bram, on the other hand, was just blown away at the fact that Simon was looking at him like that. Like he was enough.

Simon stepped forward tentatively and his eyes flicked down to Bram’s lips. Bram tried to act like that didn’t affect him as much as it did. “I want to kiss you,” Simon whispered, shifting even closer to Bram.

“So do it,” Bram said softly, feeling his heart in his throat.

He could feel Simon’s breath mixing with his own, and then they were kissing. Bram suddenly understood every cliche he’d ever rolled his eyes at upon reading. The kiss was like fireworks, his knees were weak, he forgot how to think. 

So. Yeah. Bram Greenfeld: walking cliche.

But then Simon’s hands were resting on the nape of Bram’s neck, and he didn’t find it in him to care about anything except for the boy pressed against him. After some indeterminate amount of time—seconds, minutes, hours?—Simon’s lips left Bram’s, but they were still touching in too many places to count. Each point of contact sent sparks through Bram’s skin. Bram was breathing heavily, and he would’ve been embarrassed, except Simon's breathing was ragged, too. He was also smiling, but it wasn’t a smile Bram had ever seen before. It was peaceful and slightly dazed, and—Bram realized with a start—full of something bordering on love.

“So,” Simon whispered, pressing his forehead to Bram's.

“So,” Bram echoed, unable to say much else. 

Simon took a step away from Bram and reached for his hand. He led Bram onto his porch, and they sat against each other on the porch swing, never letting go of the others’ hands. Simon looked like he had something to say, so Bram sat in silence, waiting. He reminded himself that he was able to stare at Simon now, and he did so unashamedly. His eyes trailed over Simon’s face, his long eyelashes, his faint sprinkling of freckles, his slightly raw lips, his captivating eyes.

“Earlier, you said there was a freckle on my jaw that you’ve been thinking about for years,” Simon said at once, pulling Bram from his Simon Spier-induced trance.

“Yeah,” Bram nodded, unsure of where Simon was going with this.

“Well, I guess I was sort of caught up on the ‘years’ part.”

“Oh,” Bram breathed, looking down to hide his blush. “Yeah, so, I’ve sort of had a crush on you since I moved here. I mean, why wouldn't I? But I didn’t know how to talk to you, so I just. . . didn’t.”

“I’m one of the cute boys who gets you tongue-tied?” Simon teased.

“You’re _the_ cute boy,” Bram corrected, squeezing Simon’s hand. 

Simon huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “I can’t believe Bram Greenfeld thinks _I’m_ cute.”

Bram didn’t know what to say. He just looked at Simon curiously.

“I mean, you’re obviously the most attractive person at school, and don’t even try to disagree with me on that. I’ve heard people talk. And you’re a soccer star, and a totally adorable grammar nerd, and did you know that I’ve been calling you Cute Bram in my head for months? Because I have.”

Bram still didn’t know what to say, so he just leaned into Simon and kissed him. Because that was something he could do now.

“Can you show me?” Simon asked when Bram pulled away, his voice slightly strained. “That spot you were talking about.”

Bram bit back a smile and trailed his lips to Simon’s jaw. It was a strange feeling—Simon’s skin was cold from being outside, but he must’ve been blushing because it seemed to warm almost immediately. Simon made a noise in the back of his throat, and it sent a pang to Bram’s stomach. He raised his hands to cup Simon’s face and moved his lips back to Simon’s. 

Bram was pretty sure he could’ve stayed there all night, but apparently, he’d had enough good luck for a while, because the front door burst open, and Bram had to tear his mouth away from Simon.

“Si, Mom said—” a girl’s voice announced before stopping abruptly. “Oh.”

Bram turned to see Simon’s little sister—Nora, he was pretty sure—standing in the doorway, her eyes making her look like a deer in the headlights, but she was also grinning. She had the same smile as Simon.

“Mom wants you back inside soon. She kept asking why you skipped dinner earlier, but I think now we have the answer,” Nora smirked. “It’s Bram, right?.”

Nora didn’t wait for an answer, instead, walking back into the house and winking at Simon, who groaned and put his head into his hands. 

“Not that I don’t want to spend every second of every day talking about you, I wasn’t really planning on being interrogated by my parents this soon,” he complained.

Bram laughed, scooting close to Simon again and lacing their hands together. Now that he knows what it’s like to touch Simon—even just holding his hand—he doesn’t ever want to stop.

“So. . . what now?” Simon asked.

“I feel like now you should go back inside,” Bram answered, hating himself for even suggesting it. Especially now that Simon started drawing lazy circles on the back of his hand.

“I mean, like, with us.”

“I’m all in if you are,” Bram replied, meaning every word. He didn’t want to be in the closet knowing Simon was out and waiting for him. And he definitely wanted to keep doing this—holding Simon’s hand, kissing him in the dark, feeling his side pressed against Bram.

“So, like, boyfriends?” Simon asked hopefully as if he wasn’t quite sure he believed Bram.

“Boyfriends,” Bram agreed.

Five minutes later, Bram was back in his car, driving home. He’d said goodbye to Simon with a quick brush of their lips, knowing that his family was inevitably watching from the kitchen, and promised to text him as soon as he got back. 

With the sound of Elliott Smith playing through his car speakers, a feeling Bram could tell wasn’t going away anytime soon washed over him: the feeling of being incredibly, distractingly, completely in love with Simon Spier.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [What if...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18563971/chapters/57165829)


End file.
